Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
He nodded, swallowing hard. “Those answers I promised you.”
“Yes.” I dragged my hands through my tangled hair and straightened my spine. “I want the truth. All of it.”
His expression darkened, regret flickering in his gray orbs. “You deserve that.”
“I do.”
“I tried to keep you away from all this.” He scrubbed his hands over his bearded cheeks. “The dark side of me I never wanted you to know.”
“The part that’s a forger for the DeLuca Crime Family,” I prodded with a grimace. “And a killer.”
“Yes.”
My soft laugh was rueful, holding no humor. “I should have known when you showed me your studio. All the proof I needed was right in front of my eyes, but I refused to see it. The Caravaggio that was auctioned off the night we met, it was a forgery done by you, wasn’t it?”
His chest expanded before he admitted, “It was.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, my hope for our relationship withering as I wondered if anything that happened between us was real. But I needed to know other things more urgently. “The men who took me suspected you were involved, but they didn’t know for sure. After they explained who you actually are, they told me that I was to be used as leverage against you. And that I would remain unharmed if you cooperated.”
“Apparently, Sterling Ellis draws the line at murder.” His nostrils flared as he glanced down at my bruised wrists. “Not that it’s going to save him.”
My eyes widened at the familiar name. “The insurance investigator?”
Aston’s voice was tight with fury as he explained, “He’s trying to take down the DeLuca Family. His company is furious that they’ve failed to recover so many stolen pieces, and he’s convinced we’re behind most of them. Which, to be fair, we were.”
I didn’t respond except for a nod for him to go on.
“He’s trying to set us up. He planted a stolen and easily recognizable painting in one of the deliveries to the Belladonna Gallery. A Manet he knew we couldn’t sell without getting caught. When that happened, the blame would land on me—and by extension, The Family.”
With the information I’d already learned, his explanation wasn’t too much of a surprise. “And the kidnapping?”
Aston’s jaw flexed. “It was as you said, Sterling wanted leverage. And to give me a warning. You were never supposed to be in this. But when he realized you were close to me and suspected Nativity with Saint Francis and Saint Lawrence was a forgery…”
His voice broke off, and he looked away, his fists clenched at his sides.
My knees were weak, but I forced myself to stand tall. “He no longer considered me an innocent bystander and used me to get to you.”
“Yes.”
The word sounded as though it was ripped from his soul.
Tamping down the butterflies that threatened to swirl in my belly over the depth of his anguish over me being pulled into this dangerous situation, I went over everything he told me, letting the pieces fall into place. A plan formed in my mind, one that hinged on Aston trusting me.
“You should use me against him.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I’m a curator. A junior one, but I have unfettered access at a museum with countless pieces his company insures.” I tapped the tip of my index finger against my chin. “Sterling’s reputation is on the line because you’ve cost his employer too much over the years. He wants a win. Something big. And he’s not just coming after you. He went after me too.”
“That’s on me,” Aston growled, his voice low and rough. “You were never supposed to be part of this. Not like that.”
“But I am now.” I stepped closer, just enough so that I could feel the heat of him again. “So let’s use that.”
His brows pulled together. “What do you mean?”
I paused, my mind racing. “What if we give him what he wants? Not the win, though. Just the bait.”
He didn’t say anything, but his sharp gray eyes remained locked on mine, searching. Calculating. But also clearly unhappy with the idea of letting me get pulled further into this mess.
I took a breath. “We create something for him to ‘discover.’ A piece that looks like a forgery tied to you. But this time, we lead him into the trap.”
I could see the shift in Aston the moment he understood where I was going. His posture changed just slightly. Like a tiger scenting blood in the air.
I pressed on, adrenaline surging. “We pick a mid-tier piece. Enough value to draw attention but not so famous it gets instant outside scrutiny. I’ll curate it. We ‘find’ it through an estate or a private collector and plant some inconsistencies in the provenance to raise red flags. Just enough to make Sterling feel as though he’s the only one smart enough to notice.”
“And then?”